


Dimenttaschen

by gladdecease



Series: Mishpocha [1]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 1, Gen, Jewish Greg Universe, Purim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-16 13:58:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18095672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gladdecease/pseuds/gladdecease
Summary: What's the use in making yourself sad about people who can't be here?





	Dimenttaschen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spoke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoke/gifts).



> Happy Purim, spoke! Your request inspired a flurry of Jewish Universe family headcanons, the details of which... mostly didn't make it into the fics, because word count limits, but I hope you like the resulting Greg & Gem Moms bonding.
> 
>  _Dimenttaschen_ : Yiddish, literally meaning Diamond-pockets. (This word did not exist already; I just shoved the two component words together. Germanic languages are nifty like that.)

Greg couldn’t tell you later why he’d checked the date. Maybe it was because Andy had shown up at the barn last fall, and brought up some good memories along with the bad. Maybe it was because he'd been kidnapped to space recently, and that kind of adventure got a guy thinking about life, and regrets, and people who weren't around anymore. Maybe it was because he wanted to see how well his Hebrew school memories matched up with reality. Whatever the reason, he’d looked it up - thank you, Internet - and once proven right, sat himself down in the sand to try and remember the chords that went with the one appropriate song he could almost remember.

He’d played it as a kid, it couldn’t be _that_ complicated. C? No. G? _That_ was it. Greg strummed a couple other chords, trying to remember the sequence, and grinned when it came together. “Oh, today we’ll merry merry be, and nosh some Hamentaschen.”

“Oh! Do _you_ know what Hamentaschen are, Greg?”

Greg flinched, then winced at the discordant sound he’d pulled out of his guitar in the process. “Hey, Pearl.”

The gem stepped closer, and after a moment’s consideration dropped down beside him. “Hello Greg. I apologize, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s alright, no harm done.” Now, how did the beginning of the verse go? G/D sounded right, but the words were still escaping him.

A few minutes later, Greg realized Pearl was still sitting next to him. “Uh, Pearl?”

“Yes?”

“Can I... help you with something?”

“Yes, but I didn’t want to interrupt your songwriting.” She smiled. “I can wait.”

Greg sighed. “I’m not _writing_ anything, I’m trying to remember a song I used to know when I was a kid.”

“Oh.” Pearl blinked. “Yes, human memory can be quite fallible. I - ”

“Forgot?” Pearl made a face; Greg stifled a laugh. He hummed the verse of the song he did remember, hoping it might spark something. Nope. Nothing. He groaned. “I’m not making any progress here. Go ahead, ask your question.”

Pearl clapped, gleeful. “Wonderful! Greg, what are Hamentaschen?”

“What?” Greg laughed. “Is that all you were waiting around to ask about? Pearl, it’s just a kind of cookie.”

She blinked. “A cookie?”

“Yeah. Shaped like a triangle, usually has jam or poppyseed in the middle.” Greg mapped out the shape with the first two fingers of both hands to give her an idea of the size. “My mom used to make them around this time of year.”

Pearl’s brow furrowed. “So it’s not this?” She held out a phone. The screen was set to a picture of a place of ring-shaped cookies dotted with small off-white seeds.

“What? No, these look like biscochos. My Aunt Deb was the one who made _those_.” Greg squinted. “Actually, these look _exactly_ like the ones she used to make.” Suspicious, he swiped left. A new picture came up, an off-center shot of Andy grinning self-consciously, one arm wrapped around a short darker-skinned woman in her seventies with a shock of white curly hair, wearing thick tortoise-shell glasses and a big smile. “Holy smokes, they _are_ Deb’s!” Greg swiped left again, smiling to himself. “Andy’s visiting for the holiday, huh? Good for him.”

Handing the phone back to Pearl, Greg gave her a look. “Now, why would _you_ be texting my cousin?”

Pearl averted her eyes. She hadn’t exactly been subtle in her indifference to Andy when he’d first appeared at the barn. “Steven has enjoyed getting to know his… uncle,” she said, tone going a little odd at the familial word. “Along with all this other _holiday_ stuff.” She gestured at the phone and at Greg’s guitar. “I just wanted… to do something to support him, to help him to celebrate, so I’ve been researching.” Pearl frowned down at the phone. “Though Andy has been _increasingly_ unhelpful as the day goes on.”

Greg snorted. “Well yeah, he’s probably drunk by now.”

“ _Drunk?_ ”

“That’s the whole point of this holiday - for adults!” Greg nearly laughed at the affronted look on Pearl’s face. “Just for the adults, sheesh. For kids it’s more about the story, and the food, and the costume parties…” Greg trailed off. The slightly manic look in Pearl’s eye made him suspect he’d said too much.

“Tell me _more_.”

And despite his better instincts insisting otherwise, Greg did.

* * *

When Greg arrived at the temple the next day as ordered, the smell made him freeze in the doorway. Eyes squeezed shut, he took in three deep breaths; buttery sweet, with a hint of lemon.

“Greg?” Pearl’s voice snapped Greg out of his fugue, and he stumbled over to the couch. “Did I get it wrong?” Pearl called out.

“No,” Greg said, alarmed at how much his voice was wavering. He cleared his throat, and tried again. “No, Pearl. It's perfect.”

“Well, it _is_ me,” Pearl said, very satisfied with herself. She had a tray of apricot and raspberry Hamentaschen in her hands, looking odd but smelling incredible. Just like - "They’re quite a bit like pies, if you think about it,” Pearl said. “Just smaller, and more angular.” She paused. “You’re crying, Greg.”

Greg wiped his eyes absently. “It’s nothing. I just… haven’t let myself think about this stuff in a long time. I guess I missed it more than I thought.” He glanced down at the Hamentaschen, double-taking when he realized what was odd. They weren’t triangular, but diamond-shaped.

He raised an eyebrow at Pearl.

Flustered, she set the cookies down and returned to her prep area, where a bowl of poppy seed filling waited. “You said the holiday was open to reinterpretation, so I thought - ”

“It’s great.”

She brightened. “You think so?”

“Sure! Both of my Stewball’s families in a single pastry - what could be better?”

Pearl’s eyes went wide. “W-what?”

“The Hamentaschen for mine, and the conflict with the Diamonds for Rose’s? Honestly, it’s ingenious, Pearl.”

“Oh.” Pearl relaxed, ever so slightly. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Greg.”

**Author's Note:**

> 


End file.
